


Yours, Always

by the_gramophone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Epistolary, Fluff, M/M, Marauders, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gramophone/pseuds/the_gramophone
Summary: While home from boarding school for the summer, Sirius and Remus find they have a lot to say to each other.





	1. Summer, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> I am neither British nor a teenager, so hopefully there aren't any egregious errors here. (But I am from Ohio, if you couldn't tell lol). 
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it as well! 
> 
> A big thank you to Roo (ladysharkbait) for giving this a read-through and pointing out my typos and being supportive and lovely.

June 22, 2018

Dear Moony,  


Well, I’ve been home for two days and I’m already in the shithouse with dear old Mum. She was insisting that I cut my hair before some pointless reception for Dad at work. Obviously, it would be a crime against humanity to deprive the world of my beauteous locks, so I said fuck that. And now I’ve been confined to my room, minus my mobile, telly, and any internet connection until I let her take a scissors to my head.  


I thought you’d appreciate a nice handwritten letter since that’s what people are always up to in those poncy books of yours. Mooning about in the garden and staying up writing letters while weeping tragically. I haven’t reached that point yet, but I did light a candle for ambiance.  


I like to keep it classy, just for you. And my lovely Minerva, of course, but she has yet again stubbornly refused to provide a mailing address so I shall have to settle for whispering my sweet nothings into the universe, and hope the wind travels the words of my love straight to her.  


Write back, will you? I’m dead bored and my only entertainment is Regulus coming by to tell me that long hair is out so I might as well cut it off. What the fuck does he know about hair anyway? I don’t remember any of the girls at school swooning for his rat’s nest. 

Best,  
Padfoot

_June 25, 2018_

_Pads,  
_

__

_Rough about your hair. Why doesn’t she just cut off a limb? I’m sure it would hurt you less._  


_In all seriousness (no cracks, please), if you gave in and cut it now, it could be almost grown out by the time we return to Hogwarts. Your hair grows freakishly fast, and studies show that hair grows faster in the summer. But for that to happen, you have to be outside, in the sunlight.  
_

_On the other hand, she can’t keep you locked up all summer, can she? Once that event is passed, would she even bother? I hope not because James said he wants to have us all to visit near the end of July, and if you’re there it’s not quite the same. For one thing, you’re the only one who can make the perfect Bailey’s milkshake. James goes too heavy-handed with the booze, and Peter with the ice cream. Plus when you’re not around to monitor things, James turns into a crying drunk. It’s not right to make Peter and I babysit him while he weeps about Lily Evans again._  


_This may seem like a radical idea, but have you considered reading a book? It may help pass the time, and I think Charlotte Bronte would fit your current mood very well._

_Good luck,  
Remus_

June 28, 2018

Dearest Moony-kins,  


Despite the fact that I suspect your last paragraph was sarcastic, I have taken your idea and begun reading Jane Eyre. She was a depressing bint, wasn’t she? I thought I had problems, but at least I’m not taking shit from some prick who’s playing Lord of the Manor with me. Honestly, Remus, this better not be your idea of romance or when we get back to school I’m signing you up for sessions with the school counselor.  


It did help just slightly, for which I must thank you. I was weighing the benefits of allowing the Chop to happen, just to get out of this fucking room, but then I came across this line, which I have carefully written out for your swotty self:  


_“Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion.”_  


Nice, eh? I took the liberty of sharing that with dear Mumsie and she turned a lovely new shade of purple, so I think it was a success. Best is I told her I read it at school, which she can hardly argue with since she’s the one who insisted I had to go to boarding school and not just the local with the commoners.  


My sentence has been extended but I’m feeling cheery about it. Plus, Reg has found himself a girl somewhere so he’s not surprising me with random visits. He has the worst timing to come barging in, and absolutely no tact whatsoever.  


I will leave to what I am referring to your delicate imagination. I know how easily you get the vapors. 

Padfoot

_July 1, 2018_

_Padfoot,_

_Thank you for your subtlety. You know how easily I’m offended, so naturally I had no idea what you could’ve been referring to. I don’t suppose your house arrest allows you to lock your bedroom door when you need non-Jane Eyre related private time?_  


_Changing the subject entirely, I’ve got a summer job. Sort of. You know my Uncle Rudy, who owns the bookshop? One of his cashiers left unexpectedly to backpack through South America, so I’ve been picking up shifts. It’s quite nice, actually. Mostly I get to do my own reading, and occasionally I recommend a book or ring someone up. If Uncle Rudy allowed drinks in the shop it would be the perfect job (a spot of hot chocolate does wonders for my patience when dealing with customers)._  


_Unfortunately, my parents have informed me that my cousin Rita is getting married at the end of July, and we have to fly to Ohio for the wedding, so I won’t be able to visit James. We’ll be gone for two weeks, so we can go to the wedding and spend some time seeing the sights – such as they are – with the family. This will require you to both keep James from becoming a maudlin drunk and Peter from taking his clothes off. We don’t need another streaking incident like New Year’s. I have confidence you’re up to the challenge._

_Moony_

July 4, 2018

Moony,  


It seems fitting that today, American Independence Day, I am getting my independence from this fucking room. Not that it’s much. Tonight my parents are having some of Dad’s fellow work assholes over for dinner, and apparently it would look strange if only one of their beloved children was in attendance so I’m being temporarily given leave. I told Mum that I’d rather stay in my room than mingle with that group of narcissists, but it seems my opinion on that subject was not wanted, if you can believe it. If you don’t hear from me, assume I’ve died of boredom after one too many stories of regarding the uppity new caddy at their club.  


I am a little offended you weren’t more interested in hearing about my special alone time. Having all this free time has really given me a chance to experiment with new techniques, and it would be a crime if I didn’t spread my knowledge amongst my dearest friends. Don’t lie, I know you would enjoy some new tricks to spice up your customary routine of drinking hot chocolate and reading Pride and Prejudice until bliss overtakes you. I can only assume that’s what you do behind those curtains in our bedchamber, because you have always smelled the best of any teenage boy I know. Frankly, it makes me suspicious.  


That’s bollocks about the wedding. What the hell is there to do in Ohio? How can seeing the sights there possibly take two weeks? I’m not very clear on where it is exactly, but I imagine it’s a lot of farms and people driving oversized trucks. Surely, you could get your fill in a day or so.  


Also, I’m not positive I believe Rita is a real person. Why do all your relatives have names that begin with an R? If you’re making something up to get out of babysitting Peter while I babysit James, I will be very disappointed in you. I can only do so much with those two. I’m only one (admittedly gorgeous and brilliant) man. 

Padfoot

_July 7, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_Of course I’m not making up relatives. You don’t think I would rather be with you lot than making small talk with relatives I see every five years? The last time I saw most of them was at my bar mitzvah. I’m going to have to spend two weeks on what uni I’m planning on attending, what I want to study, and if I’ve settled down with a nice girl. I can only hope I get food poisoning at the wedding._  


_I hope your family dinner wasn’t too horrible. I can only assume that you didn’t get your phone back during your parole, so you didn’t have anything to distract you from the overwhelming white privilege. Just remember, statistically most of them will die young from all the cocaine and no amount of golf can undo that.  
_

_I am not even going to address your “special alone time”, or your suppositions on what mine consists of. Although I will say that smelling nice (which I guess I do? I’ve never noticed particularly but I guess I will take the compliment) and knowing about classic literature never drove anyone away, in my experience._

_Moony_

_July 12, 2018  
Sirius, _

_I’m surprised I haven’t heard from you yet. I know you’re still banned from all forms of electronic communication, so if you could drop a line to let me know you did not, actually, die of boredom, I’d appreciate it.  
_

_I asked James if he had heard anything, and he said he hadn’t. But he also said that you’ve only written to him once since hols started. I can’t imagine why you’re writing to me more frequently, but since you are, it would be nice if you actually wrote back so I know you’re okay._

_Remus_

_July 14, 2018_

_Sirius,_  


_I just got my letters back from the letter, and they were stamped “Return to Sender”. What the hell does that mean? I know your family hasn’t moved, since they’ve lived on Grimmauld since the Dark Ages, and it would take an act of God to pry them out of it. Is your mum withholding your mail? Because that seems a bit petty, even for her.  
_

_I tried calling Regulus but he’s changed his number again. I don’t know how he keeps losing his phones but it’s a bit annoying, to be honest. How am I supposed to know what’s going on if I can’t get in touch with anyone? You could have been in a hospital for the past week and I have no way of knowing.  
_

_I don’t even know why I’m writing this. What would be the point of sending it? It’ll only come back to me. I guess I just feel like if I don’t do something I’m going to go mad.  
_

_Fuck, Sirius, why can’t you –  
_

_My mum’s at the door –_

July 12, 2018

Moony, 

Sorry if I worried you. James told me that you called him. It’s a bit of a long story, but the short version is I’m a bit of a fugitive from my family.  
Which is just a cooler way of saying that I accidentally came out at that bullshit dinner, my parents threatened to disown me if I didn’t go to conversion camp, and I ran away.  


I guess that means I’ve now also come out to you. And James, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and Peter too by the time James gets off the phone with him. I can hear him in the next room, gossiping away like an old woman. It’s not like I thought you lot would care, but I imagined that I would come out in a more dramatic way. Like I would show up to the Yule Ball with a stunning professional athlete on my arm. That seems more my style than running out of my house with barely anything, sleeping on park benches for a few nights until I could get to Godric’s Hollow.  


Mr. and Mrs. Potter have been legends, obviously. They told me I could stay as long as I need, and Mr. Potter is having his lawyer look into what my options are. I have an inheritance from my Uncle Alphard that’s supposed to be held in trust until I’m 21. I told them that if they can get to me, I’ll pay for Hogwarts, but Mr. Potter very lovingly called me an idiot and said that they would pay for school. Mrs. Potter has already started redecorating their guest room for me, having me pick out paint colors and bedding. James says that I’ve always been their favorite son, and now it’s official. I’m not surprised, obviously, that I’m their favorite because I’m so spectacularly cooler than James, but still. It’s nice.  


James said tomorrow we’ll go to the shops and get me a new mobile, ‘cause they’ve already added me to the Potter account. I suppose we won’t need to write letters then.  


Sorry, again, if I worried you. I didn’t know how to get word to anyone. But you don’t need any frown lines, so don’t worry about me, alright? I’m totally fine. 

Padfoot

_July 14, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_You dickhead, of course I was worried about you. My last two letters were returned by the post office, and I know you had joked about dying of boredom but disappearing immediately after was not on. I was so distracted wondering what had happened to you that I was a right mess at work. I accidentally confused Anne Rice and Ayn Rand to a teenager looking for some supernatural stuff, and I told another customer I didn’t remember if we had any Agatha Christie in stock because I couldn’t remember who she was. My uncle was so worried about me he went to the coffee shop next door and brought me a hot chocolate. Then he made me sit in the back and drink it all before I was allowed to talk to any more customers._  


_Also, obviously I wouldn’t care that you’re gay. You lot were great when I came out as bi two years ago. I’d basically be a hypocritical asshole if I didn’t do the same for you, wouldn’t I? But in all seriousness, all I – I mean we, the Marauders – care about is that you’re happy. It doesn’t matter who that’s with, or if it’s with no one at all.  
I’m sorry about your parents. You know, if you’re not fine, I would understand. You can hate your parents and everything they stand for, and still be upset that you’ve cut ties. No one would think any less of you for it. And even if you’re fine now, if one day a few months down the road you wake up and feel less than fine, you can tell us, alright? That’s what your mates are for. _

_Remus_

_P.S. Obviously we can text now, but we could keep on with the letters if you’d like. I quite enjoy getting mail on a regular basis that isn’t an advert. But if you think it would be a bother, don’t feel like you need to._

July 18, 2018

Moony,  


You can’t fool me, you know. You love my letters. I can’t blame you, as they’re clearly masterpieces of the modern written word. I wouldn’t be surprised if you keep them tied up with ribbon in a cedar chest. It’s the very least that my brilliant thoughts deserve.  
It would be cruel to deprive you of them, so I’m going to keep writing, ta very much. Plus it gives me somewhere to complain about James when he’s laying about, moaning about how Lily will never love him. I have discovered that my input on that subject is neither required nor wanted. All because I told him that she was a bit of an uptight loser if she couldn’t see what a catch he is. Also, I may have taken the liberty of signing him up for ChristianMingle.com, which he also didn’t appreciate.  


That’s gratitude for you, I swear.  


Being at the Potters has been excellent so far. Dad (Mr. Potter, as he insists I call him now) has contacted Walburga (formerly Mum, but has now been demoted, as a less maternal figure doesn’t exist in the United Kingdom) about going back to Grimmauld to pack up my stuff. She told him to fuck off, but James got in touch with Reg, who told us that the sperm and egg donors are going to be out all day tomorrow and he can let us in. I imagine he’ll be in for it when they find out, but it’s entirely possible they’ll just chalk it up to my bad influence that he’s now blessedly free from.  


He’s still a bit of a twat, but I suppose he came through in a pinch.  


I am shocked at your work performance. How will the customers know that they can come to you for emergency swottiness if you can’t keep your A-name authors straight? Granted, I had to google Ayn Rand, but I can understand now the severity of the mistake. Smart man, your Uncle Rudy, for coming through with the hot chocolate. I bet he didn’t make it properly – loading it with schnapps until it could get a German snockered, that is. Everyone knows that’s the best kind. AND if you were coming to James in a week when Peter is, I would graciously make it for you, but if you prefer to abandon us to the land of cows, then I suppose that is your decision. 

Padfoot

_July 22, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_We’re leaving for the airport first thing in the morning tomorrow, so if you respond to this I won’t see it until we get back. I won’t have mobile service while I’m over there either but you can always message me through facebook and I’ll see it there when I’m able to borrow a computer. Everything gets a bit fucked up going to a different continent, to be honest._  


_I know you like making your jokes about farms and cows, but Columbus is a decently sized city. If I remember correctly, it looks pretty normal. Except that everyone drives on the other side of the road, and American advertising is garish and strange.  
_

_Mostly I’m looking forward to the flight. Is that strange? I enjoy airports. I can read while I wait for my flight and there’s always excellent people-watching. Last year when we flew to Israel for vacation, Mum and I created a game of airport bingo. Categories included: running for a flight while on a phone, competent businessperson who travels a lot, parents moments away from a meltdown, bickering siblings, bachelorette groups, etc. We have a layover in Chicago, too, so there will be two chances to play.  
_

_I’ve just about finished packing. It was hard narrowing down the books to pack so my luggage doesn’t go over the weight limit. Then I had to decide which to go in my suitcase and which to put in my carry-on. It’s a long flight, and have you ever been on a flight with absolutely nothing to do? It’s a nightmare.  
_

_Mum just poked her head in and reminded me that there will be shows we can watch on the plane so maybe I don’t need quite so many books? Like I can trust that the airline won’t have nothing but complete garbage playing.  
_

_We’re getting up before dawn tomorrow so I should get to bed. I’ll give you a full run-down on the trip, and if I see any cows. Good luck with Peter and James, and tell me how it was getting your stuff. I mean, I saw your snap of you giving Grimmauld the finger so I assume it was fine. But let me know._

_Moony_

July 25, 2018

Moon-pie, 

It’s a bit odd writing knowing that you won’t receive this for some time. I thought about not writing at all until you got back, but that felt even odder. More odd? Whatever.  


Getting my stuff was fine. It’s good we went when we did, because my room was already in the process of being taken apart. Everything was down off the walls and there were garbage bags and boxes. Reg said that Walburga is planning to turn it into a gym. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her exercise, but I suppose her figure can’t be down to spite alone, so whatever. Dad and James came along to help sort and haul boxes. It ended up filling their minivan, but they didn’t want me to leave anything behind. Dad said it would be better to take everything that’s mine, and sort through what I actually want later. Consequently, that means the Potter’s den looks a bit like a jumble sale, but they don’t mind.  


Is it strange that I miss you? We haven’t seen each other in over a month, but now it’s like I can feel that you’re far away. Before I felt like if I needed to, I could take a short trip and get a dose of Moony, but now you’re out of reach. I’m not a fan, so don’t become so enamored with Midwestern living that you don’t come back, okay? I’ve done some research online and it seems that it consists of a lot of casseroles (which I’ve never had but seems dubious to me) and overly polite manners. I know you love being a polite git to everyone you meet (save those who dare to dog-ear library books) but we can do that here too. I, personally, do not, but there are plenty of good-natured plonkers here for you to be with.  


Not BE with. Obviously. But mate around with. But not more than me. Or the Marauders. But mostly me.  


Christ, this letter has turned into a bit of a mess. James made me a rum and coke and I think it’s entirely rum.  


Whatever, I won’t send it. And since I won’t send it, I would just like to say that I miss you all the time. When you’re in the US, and when you’re in Wales, and when you’re laying in the bunk across the dorm from me, squinting at your notes and not paying attention to the many fascinating things I’m doing in an attempt to get your attention.  


I think I need to go to sleep. Actually, I need to hurl, and then sleep. James is a wanker. Wanker wanker wanker wankity-wanker. He got me drunk and vulnerable. I miss you more than I miss my family. What the fuck is that about? I guess you feel more like home than they did.  


Wanker wanker wanker.  


Time to vomit. Cheers. 

_July 25, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_I possibly need to take back some of the things I said about Ohio being just like any other place. I’m hot, I smell like asphalt and cigarette smoke and barn animals, and my feet are incredibly sore._  


_All this is because our family decided it would be great fun to go to opening day of the Ohio State Fair.  
_

_It was an interesting cross-section of people who were in attendance. Farmers from out of town, families, teenagers, rich, poor. Everyone was there to watch the pig races and marvel at the butter cow.  
_

_That’s right, a cow made entirely out of butter. Apparently it is a time honored tradition, and every year (in addition to the cow) they sculpt an entire scene of butter and store it in the Dairy Building in a (thankfully air-conditioned) case. The crowd to see the cow was so packed you would have thought a celebrity was handing out autographs. Not an A-list celebrity, maybe, but someone relatively famous. The plus side was that building was where one could get ice cream, which was a delicious relief from the sweltering heat. The humidity here is no joke. Combine that with the heat from the asphalt and the grills from various vendors, and my fragile Welsh skin could barely handle it.  
_

_Tomorrow we’re going to a science museum. It’s for kids, I think, and considering I’m the youngest person I don’t know how that will go. But I guess it’s something to do. The next day everyone will be busy preparing for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, so I’ll get a break from all the family togetherness.  
_

_How are things going there? I’m not sure if this will reach you before I return – I tried looking up how long it would take to mail to you but results were inconclusive. But it seemed strange to not write so here I am.  
_

_It’s my turn to use the shower in our hotel room. I’m going to go bask in that limitless hot water now._

_Moony_

July 26, 2018

Remus, 

I was staggering downstairs in a hungover stupor this morning when Mum informed me she mailed my letter for me. I had no clue what she was going on about until I remember that, in my vomitous haze last night, I left some drunken ramblings to you sitting out, and she must have mailed it.  


I don’t remember exactly what I said. At least, not the last part. I remember some stuff about my ex-family, and then James brought me a whopper of a drink, and everything is a little murky after that. So if I said anything weird or uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. What am I even worried about?  


That last bit was mostly for myself. Anyway. I’m going to send this out today so hopefully you get these together. After you get home from your trip. Nothing like a delay to build the anticipation, I suppose. 

Sirius

July 27, 2018

Moony, 

I woke up at 5:30 this morning. Why, you may ask, would I bother opening my eyes when the birds are still asleep? I was having a perfectly pleasant dream when suddenly I was back at Hogwarts, and Professor Dumbledore was reading my letter in the Great Hall. Then he gave me notes for improvement and a grade.  


Which is all a roundabout way of saying that I remember now what I wrote in my Drunken Dispatch, my Bombed Bulletin, or my Pissed Post.  


It’s possible I killed a little time this morning going through Dad’s thesaurus.  


Anyway, it seems I got a bit soppy about how you’re the best of mates and I always want you to pay attention to me, but really, I think that’s entirely reasonable and certainly nothing to be remarked upon. I am a Magnificent Mate, and therefore, it is only fair that you should pay more attention to me.  


I mean, everyone should. So there’s nothing unique about that.  


Hope things are well for you in Ordinary Ohio and you don’t have to face too many hideous relatives at the wedding, 

Padfoot

_July 29, 2018_

_Padfoot,_

_Mum and Dad are sleeping off last night’s revelries, so I got up early and went down to our hotel’s mediocre breakfast to write you._  


_The science museum was fine. It wasn’t too small child-oriented, so there were things to do. A highlight for me was when my Aunt Caroline was called up to participate in a demonstration where she had to put her hand on a large metal thing and the electricity made her hair stand straight up from her head. Aunt Caroline was absolutely furious because she’s a bit nutty about her appearance, but she was also trying to look like a good sport because a bunch of little ones were cheering and clapping for her.  
_

_The wedding was nice. Not too long, which is always a good thing in my book. It was a bit soppy – Trevor, the groom, was a crying wreck through the vows, and you could tell who among the guests were British because they were the ones looking politely horrified at such a public display of strong emotion.  
_

_The highlights of the reception were the cake (chocolate, with chocolate icing), and the dinner (a very tasty pasta). Negatives include making small talk with relatives about every minute detail of my life, the chicken dance, and that the drinking age here is 21 (and that it was being rather strictly enforced by the bartender). Luckily Mum and Dad got pretty blitzed so I made an excuse to get them out early and get an Uber back to the hotel.  
_

_It’s funny how much build-up there is to weddings, when at the end it’s basically like any other family event with slightly better clothes. I guess it’s important to the bride and groom, but for me (who has almost no stake in their romantic happiness) it was just another day with the extended family and a suit. It could have been a funeral or a bar mitzvah for all the difference it made. I wonder if I would feel differently if it was my wedding, or if I would just want to elope and get away from all that nonsense. Both are appealing options.  
_

_In a few hours Aunt Caroline is having the family over for brunch before we wave Rita and James off on their honeymoon. I think they’re going to the Bahamas. Then tomorrow we’re going to the Columbus Zoo. It’s supposed to be one of the best in the country, so although I will likely be hot and exhausted again at the end of the day, maybe it will also be interesting._

_Remus_

July 31, 2018

Remus, 

Fuck it, I know I said a lot of shit about how I missed you but in a completely normal way, but I just got your letter from the States, and let me say that I miss you in a completely abnormal, larger-than-life sort of way. Why are you all the way over there when you could be here, with me? (And Peter and James, but fuck them, this is about me.)  


If you can’t be here, I wish I could be there with you. I bet I would be a lot of fun at a State Fair, not that I’ve ever been to one before. But I like looking at farm animals and eating fatty foods and playing carnival games. Did you even play any games? This is why you need me around, Moony, because left to your own devices you just look at exhibits and learn and act like an adult, when you could be cutting loose like I know you can do.  


Remember winter hols, when we both stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas? I said I had nowhere to go, but James had offered for me to go with him. I wanted to stay and keep you company since your parents would be overseas. I know you always say that you can take care of yourself, but sometimes you get so caught up with studying you forget to eat or sleep at regular intervals. I was afraid we’d return and find you collapsed over a desk in the library.  


That was a joke. Mostly.  


Anyway, you got me that autographed The Smiths record, which is basically the best present I’ve ever gotten in my life. My gift was such absolute crap in comparison, but you were nice about it and I thought for just a second that you were going to kiss me, but you didn’t. I don’t know if you changed your mind or if it was never in your mind at all, but wish you had. Or that I had.  


There have been a lot of times in the last year where I thought something might happen. It never did. And I know I went out with Dorcas Meadowes for a bit autumn term, but she knew I’m bent, and I knew she’s going with Marlene McKinnon, so we were just trying to keep nosy parents off our backs. You seemed so happy for me when I was going out with her that I decided I had been crazy, imagining things. But then there was Christmas, and that Look, and I told Dorcas I couldn’t be her mutual beard anymore. It turns out she came out to her parents over the holidays and it had been fine.  


James is ranting to Peter right now over a frankly enormous bowl of ice cream (no alcohol this time, he’s just crying into the sprinkles like a girl while A Cinderella Story plays) about how Lily will never return his love and all the usual bollocks. He acts like a right tit about it sometimes, but I almost envy him because he’s so willing to act like an idiot to prove how he feels. He’s never tried to hide it or act ashamed of it because he wants to look cool. Meanwhile, all I do is try to act cool and it’s gotten me exactly nothing.  


All this is my way of saying that I reckon I fancy you more than anything, and I want to snog the cardigan off of you. 

Yours,  
Sirius

_August 2, 2018_

_Padfoot,_

_I’m writing to you from the airport while we wait to catch our second flight. First we had to fly to Chicago, which is the opposite direction from home, but that’s air travel for you._  


_The zoo was actually pretty good. I thought all zoos were basically the same, but I liked the polar bears and the cheetahs. Apparently cheetahs get really nervous, did you know that? They have this program that pairs cheetah cubs with lab puppies, and they grow up to be best friends and the dogs give the cheetahs confidence when there are crowds. It was basically the cutest thing ever. I took a lot of pictures, not that I’ve posted any since our hotel’s wi-fi sucked.  
_

_On Tuesday we went to Amish Country. I was more interested in that since we don’t have anything like the Amish back home. It wasn’t as strange as I thought it would be. They live in farm country in northern Ohio, and mostly it just looked like the countryside, but sometimes there would be horse and buggies on the road. I don’t know what I expected. I guess I thought it would be more different. But they were just people (in dresses and beards) who use horses instead of cars.  
_

_The Amish are well-known for their cheeses and their fudge, which I gladly partook of. I bought a bunch of fudge to take home with me, and when I get back I’ll post this with some fudge for you and James. There’s not a ton so please learn to share.  
_

_Yesterday we packed and had dinner with my family one last time. This whole trip Dad keeps getting confused about tipping at restaurants. Last night we were treated to a long rant about how he wouldn’t have to be subjected to a math problem at dinner if the Americans could just pay a living wage to waiters. Finally Aunt Caroline said that she agreed, but that’s how it is so keep it down. People had begun to stare, which was a bit embarrassing, but I’ll never see any of them again, so I focused on my food and let Dad have his fun.  
_

_It’s strange being in a country where everything is slightly familiar but also different. Everyone speaks the same language and I recognize things from the telly, but it’s like going into an alternate universe where everything is just a little off. Words mean different things and drivers sit on the opposite side and people carry guns in public.  
_

_I can’t wait to be home. I’m sorry I missed things with you and James and Peter. I did as James suggested on Facebook and asked Mum if I could visit once we get back, but she said that I’ve already taken two weeks off work and it’s not fair to Uncle Rudy to ask for more time off when I’ll be returning to school soon.  
_

_Our flight is boarding. I remember there being a mailbox at the airport back home, so I’ll pop this in the mail there. It’s a bit odd to think that I’m writing a letter in the States that I’m not planning to mail until I fly for 8 hours to another continent, but I don’t see what the point would be in mailing it from here. Postage would be a nightmare, for one thing._

_Remus_

_P.S. I won two games of airport bingo, and Mum won three, so she is the winner and has claimed the window seat. Dad says that he is fine sitting in the middle so I can have the aisle, but I think he just wants an excuse to cuddle while he sleeps. I’m going to put my earbuds in and pretend I see nothing._

_August 4, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_Mum went to the post office today to pick up our mail from while we were away. I was surprised by how many letters you’d sent while I was gone._  


_Then I read them, and I was even more surprised._  


_I wish you’d told me sooner how you felt. I wish you’d said something at Christmas, or before you went out with Dorcas, or the moment you realized you felt something for me, because then I could have told you that I felt the same. I have done, for some time. I’ve just been a coward and hadn’t said anything._  


_I did almost kiss you at Christmas. You looked so happy, and you had given me such an amazing gift (a special edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works is not a crap gift, you git) and I wanted more than anything to kiss you. But I didn’t, because it had been such a perfect morning and I thought that if you rejected me it would ruin everything. I told myself I would do it, say something, another day. Only I never did._  


_You’ve always been braver than me. You were brave enough to come out to your parents, despite the consequences. You were brave enough to stand up to what those assholes at school said when they told you that you were a disgrace to your family or whatever. And you were brave enough to admit to me how you felt. Granted, it took some alcohol, but you could have taken it back and you didn’t._  


_I’m scared I’m not enough for you, Sirius. Not brave enough, or handsome enough, or clever enough. You’re like a sun, and I’m just a little planet, orbiting around you but never getting close._  


_I guess what I want to know is what you want. If you want to pretend this never happened, I can do that. If you want something else… I could do that too. But if you think you might want me because you’ve never dated a man before and it’s something you might like to try, please ask someone else. I couldn’t bear it if you changed your mind about me._  


_What would you like to happen next?_

_Remus_

August 8, 2018

Moony, 

Honestly, Remus, and you call me an idiot. I don’t want you because you’re a man (I mean, that plays a part, but it’s not just any man who will do) and I don’t want to pretend this never happened. I had a lot of time to think over the last few weeks. Really all I’ve been doing all summer is sitting around and thinking about what I want.  
I don’t know what I want to do when I leave Hogwarts and I don’t know what will happen to me, but I want you there beside me. I want to be with you, and have adventures with you, and hopefully kiss you quite a bit because I’m very fond of your face and your hair and your forearms. Also other bits, but I won’t get into that at the current moment because 

I’m trying to be serious. Heh. Serious Sirius.  


Refocusing!  


The point is that I am in love with you, and I want to be with you. I feel incomplete when you’re not around, and your letters make me so happy that I have been considering getting a little cedar chest of my own to keep them safe. I will even find some ribbon to tie them up, as I’m sure James has got some to spare.  


You needn’t worry about not being enough for me, because you are enough in every possible way. You are cleverer than anyone I’ve ever met, and so handsome that it’s practically all I think about. Sometimes you have this way of smiling to yourself when you think something’s funny but you don’t want to call attention to it. It’s like you’ve got a private joke with yourself and your face lights up and I want to kiss every inch of it until you tell me what’s so funny. As for being brave, I confessed my feelings to you because I was drunk, and I didn’t exactly think through the consequences of coming out to my parents. It wasn’t so much a defiantly brave moment as it was me, bored out of my mind and slightly sloshed on the wine, telling Sir Anthony Quinn that if he was afraid of gay people then he better get away from me before I shake his hand and give him AIDs.  


Real hero stuff.  


It’s occurring to me now that I could have called or texted or done any of a million things that would make this conversation happen in real time, but I like writing. I like that we’ll have a record of this to look back on one day. And it seems appropriate that it’s written in a letter, since everything else was this summer. 

Yours,  
Sirius

P.S. The fudge was delicious and I ate it all. I have no regrets. About any of it. 

_August 12, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_It feels like torture that I’m stuck in Wales, working in a bookshop and setting the table for dinner when all I want is to be wherever you are, this very moment. I never thought I would dread going to work but it just means that for eight hours I can’t think about you and how much I want you. I still do, of course, but I’ve become an exceptionally distracted employee. I doubt Uncle Rudy will hire me back next summer. I’m sure he thought I would be a better worker than I’ve turned out to be._  


_I don’t know if you meant to say that you love me, but I love you. It’s like it’s been a part of me for so long that I don’t even remember when it started. Once upon a time, I know, I was like any other student at Hogwarts and you were my friend and that was it. Then one day it’s like I woke up and I was in love. I know there were steps – years – in between but I couldn’t tell you how or when it began, or what caused it._  


_Also, you should know that my parents offered to let me go with them to Majorca for Christmas break but I knew that you wouldn’t go home so I wanted to be with you. I didn’t want you to be alone either. I can’t tell if we’re both sentimental or idiots. Maybe both._  


_Tell James that Lily came into the shop yesterday. She’s visiting some relatives who live nearby and stopped in to say hello. When I said James’s name she didn’t flinch or growl or anything, so I think it’s possible she’s softening on the subject. We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow so I’ll try to talk him up without being obvious about it._  


_I suppose now that I’m happy I want others to feel the same. I’m definitely a sentimental idiot._

_Yours always,  
Remus_

August 16, 2018

Moony, 

I made the mistake of mentioning to James that you wrote about seeing Lily in the shop. The wanker grabbed your letter out of my hands before I could offer to read him the relevant bit, and now he knows just about everything.  


He is ecstatic, by the way. Obviously about Lily, but also on behalf of you and me. He keeps throwing me cheeky knowing looks and talking about giving us alone time in the dorm and how he knew it all along.  


Like hell he did. I refuse to believe James Potter is more aware than I am, especially considering the entire month he spent in the spring writing poetry to Evans. Considering she threw it in the trash, it wasn’t exactly time well spent. And if he wasn’t observant enough to notice that she wouldn’t like him to loudly present her with a bound copy of all of his “best” poems in the middle of the Common Room, how am I supposed to believe he noticed me pining over you? Or you pining over me?  


If you were, that is. Pining. I’m not saying you were, but I was, and you say you have – had – feelings so.  


Writing letters took a lot less brainpower on my part when I didn’t constantly feel like I was about to put my foot in it.  


Please write back quickly and report the details of your lunch. Then once you’ve gotten the boring bits out of the way, tell me all about how your job is going, if your hair has grown out, what you think about late at night, etc. The important stuff. 

Yours always and always (don’t you try to one-up me on this Moony),  
Sirius

_August 20, 2018_

_Sirius,_

_I suppose it’s my own fault for not realizing James would react like a poorly trained bloodhound at the slightest mention of Lily. Although I would have preferred that James not see the evidence of my soppiness for you in such detail, I don’t mind him knowing._  


_Do you? Were you hoping to keep it a secret a little longer? I suppose we never actually talked about it. We don’t have to tell anyone at school if you don’t want. Although now that James knows, we should probably tell Peter. If he found out everyone knew but him it would hurt his feelings. Although he’s not the best at keeping secrets, so if you don’t want our classmates to know we don’t have to tell him. Just tell me what you want._  


_Now onto the boring bits, as you so kindly put it. Lunch with Lily went very well. We went to an Italian place I’ve wanted to try all summer, as they opened while I was at Hogwarts. The lasagna was delicious and then we split a tiramisu._  


_I know James doesn’t really care about that part (although I suppose he does keep track of her favorite foods in that fond, slightly stalkerish way of his). I tried my best to be discreet, but Lily outright asked me if it was true that James took you in after your family threw you out. Apparently just about everyone knows about that now, thanks to some of Regulus’s asshole friends. Anyway, I said it was, and mentioned how great James had been with everything and she said that maybe he wasn’t such a twat after all and that it was nice to see that he had grown up a little._  


_I hope you don’t feel like I used your situation to talk James up. I didn’t mention that you’re gay. I don’t know if anyone knows that, but I didn’t want to be the one to confirm it if there are rumors going about. Not that Lily isn’t trustworthy, but I didn’t want you to feel that you can’t confide in me. If you feel terribly used, please tell me and I will make it up to you._  


_You might also mention to James that Lily did not, in fact, throw away his poetry. After lunch we went to her hotel to hang out while she packed. (Her dreadful sister, Petunia, was out shopping.) While I was there, I noticed in her rucksack the poetry book, which it seems she brought with her. There was even a bookmark in it so she’s definitely read it._  


_As for the other topics you mentioned – my job is going fine. I’ve spent a considerable amount of my meagre paycheck buying new books to take back to school with me. My hair isn’t noticeably longer but it did get some sun while I was away so it’s lightened a bit. My mum says it looks nice, but I think I look like a twat who tried to lighten my hair with lemonade._  


_As for what I think about at night? Maybe I’ll tell you when I see you again._

_Forever yours (take that you competitive bastard),_

_Moony_

August 23, 2018

Moony, 

I have absolutely no desire to keep how I feel about you a secret any longer than I have to. The only reason I hadn’t told James yet was because I wanted to talk it over with you first. Which I suppose maybe I could have done a little sooner, but I was enjoying talking about how delectable I find you.  


I can’t wait to see you. And your sun-tinted hair, which I’m sure looks amazing. I’d know for sure if you ever posted photos online, but alas. And no, I don’t mean the five photos you’ve posted on Instagram of the cat who lives in Uncle Rudy’s shop. Not that Frodo isn’t an excellent shop cat, because I’m sure he is.  


I also am not in the least offended that you discussed my situation with Lily. It doesn’t sound like you made me out to be a tragic character from a TV movie, which I appreciate. If she already knows I’m no longer Fit to Bear the Name Black (as Walburga put it in the letter she so kindly sent me when she discovered I’d raided my room at Grimmauld for my belongings), then it’s not like you betrayed some great secret. And if it helps James be happy and stop moping about, then bully for him.  


I read out the bit from your letter this time. He was so excited when he heard the part about his sad poetry book that he almost ripped the letter from my hands, but I sat on his chest until he calmed down.  


We’re going to see each other soon. It doesn’t feel like soon enough. I feel particularly glad I didn’t cut my hair, because now I have some extra motivation for looking extra stunning when I see you.  


I hope I stun you, at least. You stun me.  


Love,  
Sirius 

P.S. Top that sign-off, wanker. 

_August 27, 2018_

_Dear Sirius,_

_I can’t believe this is going to be the last letter of our summer. I’m not even positive this will reach you before we leave for Hogwarts, but I hope it does._  


_I just wanted to say that even though I spent this entire summer cut off from my friends and waking up absurdly early to work and traveling halfway across the world to see relatives I’m indifferent towards, this has been the best summer of my life. Every morning I wake up, hoping I’ll get a letter and hear what’s happening in your life. Even when I knew enough time hadn’t passed for me to get something, I still hoped, because any day I received a letter from you was a good one._  


_I’ve been on some dates since I came out, as you know, but I always felt like I wasn’t quite what the other person wanted. Too quiet or bookish or boring. That’s not even factoring the bastards (male and female) who were hoping to “cure” me of my bisexuality._  


_But you’re my best friend, and you already know my annoying habits and I already know yours. And short of going on a crazy killing spree, there’s nothing you could do that would change how I feel about you._  


_I’ll see you on the train._

_Love always,  
Remus_


	2. Epilogue

September 1, 2018

Families and students bustled around Remus as he fidgeted standing on the train platform. His parents had already left, citing a need to get on the road. They’d come to London two days before to do some shopping for the term that they couldn’t accomplish in their village. He’d hoped that he might meet up with James and Sirius yesterday, but they didn’t end up coming to London until that morning.  


So now he was standing in the middle of a train platform, surrounded by his classmates, waiting to meet his friend and his - boyfriend? His something.  


Remus felt bile rise in his throat at the thought. He wished he hadn’t packed his bundle of Sirius’s letters in his trunk because he wouldn’t mind taking them out and giving them a look over to settle his nerves. He knew Sirius had said that he didn’t care who knew about them, but would he feel the same once they saw each other in person? What if 

Sirius saw him and realized there wasn’t a spark, actually, and that he’d rather go back to the way things were before?  


He wasn’t sure what would be worse, Sirius wanting to hide him away, or Sirius not wanting him at all.  


“Remus!” Peter’s jolly voice broke in before he could spiral any further.  


“Hey, Peter,” he said, managing a small smile that he hoped looked more natural than it felt.  


“Are you alright?” Peter frowned. “You look a bit peaky.”  


Not that natural, then.  


“I’m fine,” Remus said. “Just anxious to get going, I guess.”  


Peter nodded. “Makes sense. I can’t believe it’s our last year! Doesn’t seem quite real, does it?”  


It didn’t. It seemed like it was only yesterday that he was a terrified first year, hoping someone would be willing to sit next to him on the train ride to school. He had stood almost on this exact spot when another first year with unruly black hair and glasses had run over and introduced himself as James Potter. He already had two others in his compartment, but there was room for one more.  


And that had been that. Remus’s life had never been the same.  


“Remus!” James’s voice called from behind him.  


Remus spun around. James was striding toward them, waving. Behind him trailed Mr. and Mrs. Potter, holding a container of what looked like Mrs. Potter’s famous cookies. But there was no sign of Sirius.  


Remus’s stomach sank, and he reminded himself that it didn’t mean anything. Sirius could be catching the loo or getting a compartment for them. He was obviously coming so there was no need to be disappointed that he wasn’t with James.  


James and Peter had started talking about their summers, and Remus tried his best to listen.  


Something landed on his back, and Remus stumbled under the weight.  


“Moony!” Sirius’s delighted voice said in his ear.  


“Padfoot,” he said. “Should I ask why you’re on my back?”  


Sirius slid off and walked around. “I had to say his to Reg and make sure he wasn’t traumatized from spending all summer with Walburga and Orion. Hey, Peter.”  


Peter bumped fists with Sirius. “Hey. Don’t know that that actually answered his question, Padfoot.”  


Sirius shrugged. “People expect an entrance befitting my grand personage. I can’t disappoint them.”  


“Of course not,” Remus said, smiling fondly like an idiot.  


“Hey,” Sirius said again. Remus felt his stomach twist at the hot look in Sirius’s eyes.  


“Hey,” he said.  


“You both said that already,” Peter interjected.  


Remus saw James smack his arm out of the corner of his eye. But he couldn’t concentrate on that, couldn’t even think about explaining to Peter, who they’d never actually told, because Sirius was stepping towards him.  


Sirius stepped up to him and reached out, brushing his hand against his hair, and Remus couldn’t remember how to breathe.  


“I like your hair,” Sirius said.  


Before Remus could respond, Sirius leaned forward, grasping Remus’s head between his hands and hauled him forward, sealing his lips in a heated kiss. Any thoughts about the people watching – including James’s parents – were swept away with the sweep of Sirius’s tongue across his lips, demanding entrance and claiming him. Remus felt powerless to do anything but allow him in, nipping at Sirius’s lips and gasping as Sirius’s tongue plundered his mouth.  


“Oy!”  


Sirius jerked away, eyes unfocused and looking a little confused. Remus could empathize.  


“Not that that wasn’t lovely,” James said, “but the train is loading.”  
“Right,” Sirius nodded dazedly. “Right.” He shook himself and looked over at Remus, holding out his hand. “Ready?”  


Remus grabbed it, letting Sirius pull him to his side. “Let’s go.”  


Sirius brushed his lips over his once more in a quick kiss before grabbing his bag with his free hand and pulling them along to the train, and the next year at Hogwarts, and their future.


End file.
